which had never seen or felt the fluttering of a habit, to
embarking on the conveyance I have described above, and starting down a
mountain-side at the risk of a broken neck.

Well, to return to that terrible moment. I see the whole scene now. The
frail, rude sledge, with its breaks made out of a couple of standards
from a wire fence, connected by a strong iron chain; F----seated at the
back of the precious contrivance, firmly grasping a standard in each
hand; Mr. U---- clinging desperately to his Alpen-stock with one hand,
whilst with the other he helps me on to the board; and Nettle, my dear
little terrier, standing shivering on three legs, sniffing distrustfully
at the sledge. It is extremely difficult even to take one's place on
a board a dozen inches wide. My petticoats have to be firmly wrapped
around me, and care taken that no fold projects beyond the sledge, or
I should be soon dragged out of my frail seat. I fix my feet firmly
against the batten, and F---- cries, "Are you ready?" "Oh, not yet!"
I gasp, clinging to Mr. U----'s hand as if I never meant to let it go.
"Hold tight!" he shouts. Now what a mockery this injunction was. I
had nothing to hold on to except my own knees, and I clasped them
convulsively. Mr. U---- says, "You're all right now," and before I can
realize that he has let go my hand, before my courage is half-way up to
the necessary height, we are off. The breaks are slightly depressed for
the first few yards, in order to regulate our pace, and because there
is a tremendously steep pitch just at first. Once we have safely passed
that he tilts up the standards, and our sledge shoots like a meteor down
the perfectly smooth incline. I cannot draw my breath, we are going at
such a pace through the keen air; I give myself up for lost. We come to
another steep pitch near the bottom of the hill; F---- is laughing to
such a degree at me that he does not put down his breaks soon enough,
and loses control of the sledge. We appear to leap down the dip, and
then the sledge turns first one way and then the other, its zinc prow
being sometimes up-hill and some-times down. It seems wonderful that
we keep on the sledge, for we have no means of holding on except by
pressing our feet against the battens; yet in the grand and final upset
at the bottom of the hill, the sledge is there too, and we find we have
never parted company from it.

Will any one believe that after such a perilous journey, I could
actually b